


Control

by writerjesus



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 14:32:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14834072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerjesus/pseuds/writerjesus
Summary: Seto Kaiba was a control freak. That was kind of a given. Stress management has never been his strong suit… so he took control of what he could.





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for descriptions of self-harm and disordered eating. Please do not read if this will trigger you.
> 
> Not beta-read.

It was an easy thing to miss. Seto Kaiba made sure that it was never obvious, never regular enough to be picked up on. Not during summer. Not when travelling in close quarters with Mokuba. Not on nights that Joey slept over. Not often enough to become a habit. 

 

It started after Gozaburo died. If anything, it was just a habit. When he got a question wrong, when he didn’t perform well enough or fast enough, he was punished. The pain was expected. It helped him grow. (He was older now. He knew it was wrong. He knew how flawed the logic was. He was also unable to stop it.) He also learned never to leave lasting marks. Seto had looked up ways to hurt himself without scars, without blood. Rubber bands were an easily accessible tool. He’d take one and put it around his wrist. And whenever he needed to be grounded, focused, he’d snap it against his forearm. His shirt or jacket sleeves would always cover up the resulting welt and the mark would never last longer than a couple days. He doesn’t do it often. He knew that if he relied on it too much, he’d eventually want more, his previous standards be damned. 

 

Unfortunately, there was no one to blame but himself when it came to his eating habits. He couldn’t blame youth or naivety or his past. Seto had been stressed because of an upcoming meeting. The nerves took the form of nausea. He couldn’t keep anything down… so he stopped trying. He didn’t eat for a day and a half and did his presentation flawlessly. Even when he got lightheaded when he stood up too quickly or headaches plagued him, he powered through it. And there was a rush of accomplishment that followed after. And when the next presentation came along, he did it again. But the time after that was a smaller project. He wasn’t as nervous and ate without issue. He worked out a system. He didn’t do it every time, only when something was particularly stressful or there were greater things at risk.  

 

Seto was not unaware of his own habits. He was aware that skipping meals was unhealthy, that he was not as his peak performance despite doing well that one particular time. But that rush of satisfaction was powerful. It felt good, in a sick way. There was control. Even when everything else seemed out of his control, he had this. 

 

Seto was careful. He didn’t want to draw attention to it. It wasn’t a problem because Seto made sure it never escalated to being a problem. That didn’t stop Joey from noticing. He’d bring Seto coffee and a sandwich sometimes and he’d see how Seto would down the coffee but not touch his food. Seto always assured him that he’d eat it after he was done writing up his report. By the time Joey left, Seto still wouldn’t have touched it. 

 

They’d go out on dates. Seto would order something small and barely finish. Or share his food with Joey, who ate anything and everything. It’d always be the same story. Seto just ate. Or he had promised he’d eat dinner with Mokuba so he didn’t want to fill up. Or he wasn’t feeling well. Joey wasn’t stupid. He picked up on the pattern fairly quickly. It wasn’t all the time. At first, Joey thought he was just overreacting… But there was only so long he could stand being just a bystander. 

 

Joey knew that timing was everything. He waited until one of the nights where he slept over. Joey knew that Seto was a borderline insomniac so he waited up until Seto emerged from his office to finally go to sleep. 

 

Seto climbed into bed quietly, slipping under the sheets as to not disturb his partner. He laid there for a few minutes, eyes closed, waiting for sleep to take him. Then Joey shifted. Seto opened his eyes to faintly make out Joey’s face in the dark.

 

“Go back to sleep.” Seto said softly. 

 

“Wasn’t asleep anyway. I was waiting for you.” Joey replied, his voice equally hushed. 

 

Seto resisted the urge to roll his eyes but there was a fond smile on his face. “Well I’m here now so go to sleep.”   
  


Joey kissed Seto’s cheek before sitting up. “I wanted to talk to you first.” 

 

Seto felt his insides twist, his mind racing with possibilities. He sat up as well, trying to discern the emotions on Joey’s face.

 

Before he could reason out what had happened to cause Joey to be upset, rather than angry, Joey continued. “I just noticed… you’ve lost weight. And you haven’t been eating much.” 

 

Seto kept his face blank, his voice even and rehearsed. “I’m fine. I haven’t been feeling the best but I’m taking care of myself just fine. You don’t have to worry.” 

 

Joey wasn’t so easily fooled. “It’s been going on for a while. Not for a long time but like. You do it in spurts. You won’t eat for a couple days but then you’ll be fine for a few weeks before you do it again. So what’s going on?” His voice wasn’t particularly loud or angry which was a good sign. 

 

And maybe it was because it was late and they were in the dark but… it made talking a little easier. Seto was quiet, trying to find the words. Eloquence was something he was born with, bred for. It shouldn’t be this difficult. But somehow, having Joey look at him even in the dark made things more difficult. 

 

Sensing Seto’s discomfort, Joey kissed his cheek before turning around so his back was facing him. “I’m still listening.” He whispered. “Take your time.” 

 

Seto was touched by the gesture, a knot forming in the back of his throat. He rested his cheek against Joey’s shoulder, his arms circling around his waist. He stared at the far wall, trying to relax. The lump in his throat didn’t go away as he spoke. 

 

“It’s not about weight or appearance.” He disclaimed. “I know that most people assume that. But I don’t care about that. It’s never been about how I look. It’s about how I feel.” He paused. The words felt foreign on his tongue. He’s never said any of his aloud before. “It’s about control. I need to feel in control. Gozaburo,” the name tasted bitter on his tongue, “he raised me to be perfect. A machine. And if I wasn’t up to standard, punishment was given. So I learned fast. I did it because I had to. And then it just became a part of me. The efficiency, the calculating nature. There’s a satisfaction with everything going smoothly. And I get that feeling when I do this… And it’s why I have to ground myself when I feel off track.” He takes a few minutes to explain how he uses the rubber bands. 

 

Joey was quiet, giving Seto the time to explain. He took one of his hands and gave it a light squeeze. The quiet reassurance was what propels Seto to continue. 

 

“I know self harm isn’t the answer. But that’s why I do something that won’t leave any lasting marks or have long term repercussions. I don’t do it often. I also know what anorexia does to a person. I won’t allow myself to get that bad. I know that it isn’t good nor healthy, so don’t lecture me.” And there was that defensive anger. Joey just squeezed Seto’s hand again. “I wouldn’t.” He replied gently. 

 

Seto sighed and moved his head so his forehead rested against Joey’s shoulder. “You’re surprisingly calm about all of this. I expected you to blow up and shout about it.” 

 

Joey shook his head. “Nah. I know that wouldn’t work on you. If anything, you’d just shut me out some more and then I really wouldn’t know what was going on.” 

 

Seto gave a small humorless laugh. “You’re certainly not wrong.” He closed his eyes, feeling Joey’s body against his own. “Pretty fucked up, right? All of this. Me, being a cold and calculating machine, distant and only focused on productivity and money. You must hate it.” He can’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. 

 

Joey took Seto’s hands and pried them off his waist and something in Seto’s chest ached. That was it then. This is where Joey agreed with him and grabbed his stuff, wondering why he bothered in the first place. 

 

Before Seto could get lost in that train of thought, Joey turned back around to look at him. Joey’s eyes were soft but not with pity. They’re sad but they hold no pity nor contempt. Joey touches Seto’s chest over his heart. He felt the steady beat and smiled warmly. “I dunno. You don’t seem cold or distant. You seem pretty warm to me. And you’re here.” 

 

Seto was at a loss for words but his chest ached. He took Joey’s hand from his chest in favor of holding him close. He was practically in Joey’s lap at this point, his long legs straddling Joey’s waist. Joey’s hands were now resting on his hips, keeping him close. Joey hushed him gently and if Seto was in a steadier state of mind, he’d scoff at the childish treatment. For now, he just listened to Joey’s voice. 

 

Joey talked for a while. Although their situations were very different, he knew what it was like to not meet expectations. He talked about his time in the gang in middle school. He talked about his father. He talked about the terrible things that his father would yell at him in his drunken rages, the bruises and scars he had until he was old enough to fight back. None of it was new to Seto. They talked about these things before, briefly. 

 

Seto listened, his eyes downcast. He traced patterns along Joey’s chest and shoulders. It was terrifying to be this open and vulnerable and he needed the distraction from Joey’s piercing eyes. 

 

Joey reminded Seto that verbal and physical abuse were familiar demons to both of them, as boys. But now they were older and survivors. And wasn’t that a miracle in its own right? Didn’t it speak for itself that they didn’t turn out like their abusers? 

 

At that, Seto stopped. Joey watched as he saw Seto replay those words in his head, internalized them. He felt Seto’s hands on his face, cupping his cheeks. And then they were kissing. It was soft and gentle, sweet and full of gratitude and adoration. How could this boy think he’s a monster, Joey thought, when he kissed like that? 

 

They finally laid down after that. The emotional upheaval of past hurts had exhausted them both. They both felt better, having at least talked about what was going on. They fell asleep in each other’s arms. 

 

The next morning, they don’t talk about what happened. But things changed after that. They fumbled their way through a routine. Joey would visit Seto’s office and bring small snacks he knew he liked. Seto ate at least some of it. Joey cooked for him when he had time. Seto stopped lying about when he last ate. Joey iced the welts on Seto’s arms. Seto tried to talk to Joey weeks ahead of any major presentation to soothe his nerves. Joey researched as much as he could about anxiety. Seto tried therapy. 

 

They still made mistakes. They still fought. They threw insults like daggers, going for blood. 

 

Then they’d come back together to bandage each other’s wounds. They made up. They learned. They improved, despite everything.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a very hard fic for me to write. Most of what I described here is based off of personal experience. I do not claim to know all experiences of self-harm, eating disorders, anxiety, and the like. I also don't wish to offend anyone.


End file.
